


Narcissa

by Anarchyinplasma



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 15:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18097118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchyinplasma/pseuds/Anarchyinplasma
Summary: Ashe is pretty, very pretty in fact, so pretty that realistically, she thinks, she's well above anyone else.





	Narcissa

If there was one accusation Elizabeth Caledonia “Calamity” Ashe could never defend herself from, it was vanity. She's well aware of how good she looks, men have been tempted into joining her gang just for the whispered suggestion of a night with her, and women fall at her feet with a smile half the time, colourful begging and all.  
“Oh please my lady, no, is there nothing I can offer instead~?”

It speaks somewhat to her character that her favourite thing is to lean in close, give a whispered “no” and rob them blind.

She's never taken any of them up on the offer, neither man nor woman, they just can never match up to her standards. Why, after all, would she ever choose to bed anyone who's not an ounce as pretty as she is. Not that she's inexperienced, there were plenty of girls in her teenage years, a sort of sustained rebellion to her absent parents. Well, apart from the crime.

She has to roll her eyes at the whispering her grunts don't think she can hear.  
“I heard she refuses then takes them up there for torture.  
“I heard she only took the offer once, them Sappho family triplets we ambushed that one time.” Even Ashe has to admit, that's flattering. Still, she has a gang to run; so she walks up behind them, kicks over a crate they just moved, and barks out  
“Ah heard that lazy, good-fer-nuthin’, layabouts who spend more time gossiping about mah lack of a girlfriend than stackin’ crates get no pay.”

She stalks off with pride, leaving her two grunts stacking crates full of arms at double the rate.

But vanity is Calamity's vice, and as soon as she shuts herself into her room, kicks off her shoes, and makes her way to her bed, she finally indulges in the frustration of her own high standards.

The left wall of her opulent suite is dominated by a mirror, so Ashe hangs her hat on the bedpost, flops into her bed in a decidedly un-ladylike manner, and looks herself in the eye.

The truth is, it's been years since she was able to find anyone who matched up to her standards. Men were out of the question, they're too bulky, heavily built. Ashe prefers a slender frame, but the emaciated rats that skinny men turn into are just as revolting, that Fawkes criminal on the news was skinny as they come, but oh how disgustingly ugly.

Women can get much closer, gorgeous slender supermodels, but even they always get something wrong. Either it's the wrong colour hair, or eyes, or the shape of their face is just a few degrees out. But there's one woman who can always measure up to Ashe's stratospheric standards; and that's Ashe herself.

The mirror was a lucky find, but boy was it useful, over the years she'd explored a number of different options but this was by far the best. A full view of her own glorious body.

She starts to strip for herself, slowly removing her vambrace and her gloves, enjoying how exquisite she looks to her own eyes, she brings a finger up to tease at her own lips, giving her doppelganger in the mirror a coy look while her free fingers stroke the clear line of her jaw and ghost down her elegant neck. She pulls her tie off, slowly, savouring the rasp as the silk slides against the fine cotton of her shirt. Very gently, she starts to undo the buttons of her shirt, exposing the lace she wore underneath. It might not be practical, but Ashe had paid top dollar for a set as pretty as she demanded while also comfortable enough to not piss her off in a fight.

She takes her time getting herself down to her underwear, this is ninety percent of her experience after all, why rush. The enjoyment of her own self giving her a look of unadulterated want in the mirror is all the encouragement she ever needs. Her fingers trail down her toned stomach, other hand teasing herself through her bra, she's almost tempted to start on herself immediately, fingers picking at her waistband, but she restrains herself. She's got a large amount of free time today, why not make the best use of it. She pouts, gives herself a look full of want, and slowly pulls her shirt off, enjoying the look her mirror image gives her as the fine material of her shirt slides off her shoulders.

She's quicker to pull her trousers off, there's so many odd locks and buckles she'd be at it for a year if she tried to enjoy herself with each one. And while Ashe would be perfectly content with only herself to look at for an entire year, she has raids to lead, people to kill, and banks to rob; so some sacrifices must be made. Finally though, she pulls off the last of her clothing, tosses it away, and drinks in the full sight of the surprise she prepared for herself that morning. Full lingerie of course, only the best for a woman of her supreme looks and talent. And all of it white, of course. From the stockings to the garters to the panties that covered almost nothing, all of it in her favourite colour. Ashe ran a pleased hand through her hair and turned away with a smile.

Loathe though she was to pull her eyes away from her own reflection, there was one more piece she wasn't able to wear before hand. So she reached under her bed until she found the box, and out of it she pulled two glossy red stiletto heels; her pièce de résistance, she slipped them on and then gave herself her full and undivided attention.

She spent almost twenty minutes posing for herself. Raking her eyes over her own body; teasing herself through her underwear, and enjoying every movement and minute shiver of her image in the mirror. Finally, she lay down, held her own gaze, and got down to business.

She was already a little wet, her teasing had worked herself up quite nicely and she just couldn't hold herself back any longer. Ashe finally dipped her fingers under the waistband and started to play with herself. Her fingers probed around and she gasped, holding her own gaze in the mirror with a smile. Ashe rubbed herself harder, pinching at her clit as she felt her pleasure continue to build until she was almost there; and then she stopped, then started, then stopped, holding herself on the absolute edge for as long as she possibly could before she finally, finally, sent herself tumbling to the edge with a satisfied gasp.

When Ashe finally comes, she forces her eyes to stay open, the sight of her own body shivering in ecstasy as she rides out the high of her orgasm is better than anything else. She cleans up her own fingers with a wink at her mirror, kicks off her incredibly sexy if somewhat impractical shoes, and slips beneath her covers.

A quick tap at her bedside table and her wall mounted TV flicked onto the news.  
“-new strides have been made in the area of cloning, with scientists hopeful that a human trial could even begin within the next two years.” Ashe flicked off the TV with a surprised blink.  
“I could definitely get on top of that…” a second later, she chuckled at her own joke, and then lay down and went to sleep.


End file.
